Domination

Logan woke up with Mystique still curled against him. She looked so deceptively angelic in her sleep that he found it hard to believe that a woman with a face like that could have tied him up and…and…

Mystique woke up then, slowly, her yellow eyes revealing themselves through a series of lazy blinks. Confusion registered briefly on her face before she realized where she was. Then she smiled languidly.

“Hello, Logan.”

“Hi, Mystique.”

She nestled closer, restinr her head on his chest. If there was anything this rough, powerful mutant made her feel, it was womanly. Mystique hadn’t thought of herself as a gendered individual for some time—working with Magneto, Sabretooth, and Toad had made it a non-issue, and sometimes, with the myriad of shapes she took during a given hour, she worried she had lost touch of who she really was. But this…sex to the point of exhaustion followed by the safety of a close embrace…alerted her to the realization that she was female, and she very enthusiastically greeted the feel of Logan’s e hae hands on her slender waist, the curve of her buttocks, and the swell of her breasts.

Directly below the lovers, Rogue and Storm shared a late breakfast. They had both heard Mystique’s final scream of pleasure the night before and were vaguely worried by it.

“She really does like him, y’ know,” said Rogue.

Storm glanced up at the ceiling. “She’s part of the Brotherhood. You can’t trust their motivations—not ever. I certainly don’t believe that she wouldn’t orchestrate this entire farce for the purpose of espionage…do you?”

“She’s pretty devious all right,” acquiesced Rogue, slowly stirring sugar into a cup of coffee.

“That, and a slut,” said Scott, coming up behind them.

“Scott,” scolded Storm. “Virgin ears.”

Rogue rolled her eyes. “Ah’d love it if y’didn’t treat me like such a child all the time, Ororo.”

Storm ignored her. “How long were you listening?”

Scott shrugged as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Long enough to hear enough, I guess. But it’s not like anything about Logan and Mystique is a secret anymore. That blue banshee screamed loudly enough to wake the dead last night.”

“We’ve got to put a stop to this,” said Storm in her typically sweet manner. “Our Logan is a very lonely man. I’m certain that this is the reason he continues this lurid escapade.”

Scott shrugged. “She’s kind of good-looking, for a…”

Jean came in, frowning as usual.

“…hideously ugly freak who I am in no way attracted to,” he finished. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Discussing Mystique?” sniffed Jean. “That woman is nothing but trouble. Is she still here?”

Rogue nodded and gestured at the ceiling. “She’s upstaihs with Logan.”

Several seconds passed by before Jean finally stood and stalked angrily towards the stairs. Up she went, hands curled into fists and jaw clenched. The rest of the X-Men watched her nervously. “Uh, honey,” said Scott, standto fto follow her.

Using her telekinesis, Jean held him back with a flick of her wrist. She continued up the stairs and out of sight. Suddenly, the sound of a door being flung open, then Logan’s voice.

“What the hell?”

“You!” screamed Jean shrilly. “You get out!!”

There was the sound of a great hustle, some heavy objects falling to the floor, and then Mystique herself came flying down the stairs to blow a sardonic kiss to her onlookers and bolt out the front door.

There was a long pause before the ruckus started again.

“Now what the hell did you do that for?”

“Logan, that woman does not stay under our roof! Not now, not ever!! Do you hear me?”

“You sound like my mother,” snarled Logan, skirting the fact that he didn’t remember his mother at all.

“Oh, do I?” snapped Jean, coming down the stairs in a huff. Logan followed her, wrapped only in a sheet and stumbling to keep his balance. He caught glance of Rogue, Scott, and Storm and stopped in his tracks.

Scott whistled. “Lookin’ good!”

Logan smiled contemptuously and went back upstairs. “Go to Hell, Cyclops.”

Mystique entered the mansion at noon, feeling like a wayward girl who had disobeyed her parents and gone out dancing. And now she had to slither inside without anyone seeing her. She had barely gone twenty feet before Magneto appeared before her, arms crossed angrily on his chest.

“Hello, Raven.”

Mystique nodded and tried to slip past him. “Erik.”

He moved into her path. “Raven, where were you last night?”

“Erik,” she said, staring directly at her mentor. “Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?”

With elegant agility she slithered past him, leaving him to watch the smooth, hard muscles of her back shift as she sauntered away. He meditated on her words. This time it was not Charles betraying him, but an even older, more loyal companion—his dear, darling Raven. He felt sick.

Mystique went to her room feeling none too well herself. Despite the fact that she in no way regretted sleeping with Logan, she couldn’t help but respond with guilt when it came to the matter of Erik. She loved him, and the expression of deep sorrow in his watery blue eyes was almost more than she could bear. A tear slid down her cheek, looking oddly discordant on her eternally stoic face. With a sigh, she wiped it away, embarrassed, and curled up in bed.

Within a short time she had fallen into a deep sleep, and it wasn’t until several hours later that she woke and decided that perhaps Erik would feel better if she proved that she still loved him, that is, if she proved she still loved the Brotherhood. A moment or two of thought and she knew exactly what needed to be done.